


Lines

by wryandwatchful



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Cocaine, Depression, Drabble, Drug Use, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:31:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wryandwatchful/pseuds/wryandwatchful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night after Michael's "death", Trevor tries to dull the pain the only way he knows how... drugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lines

The first line is thin….straight as the bullet that pierced your flawless flesh, whiter than the snow that began to fall in thick, fat flakes that embraced your lifeless frame like a funeral veil. My vision begins to blur… fucking tears again? Mother was right… I am a failure. … I failed to become anything more than a drug-runner in a backwater town out west. I failed to save you. My eyes sting with tears again. To push them away I succumb to the waiting snow in front of me. It burns like hell. My nose is on fire and it feels so fucking amazing… my throat’s gone numb… good. I lay back against the bed and stare at the ceiling of the dingy motel room. I can feel it…the warm buzz beginning in my head. I run my hands up my chest. … imagining they’re yours. Feeling every crevice with your fingers and tongue. .. there’s a tightening in my chest. …I can’t breathe. I’m drowning. All I feel in this moment is despair…cripling….Something is clawing at my insides…at my heart. When I close my eyes it looks like you….  
The second line is thicker, measured out with trembling hands. The hands that should’ve been quicker… should’ve protected you. Tears burn again followed by a rage that draws my fist against the table, knocking the empty bottle of whiskey from its perch to the floor. The shards of glass are like my heart. .. jagged. .. broken. After I snort the second line, I pick a piece of it up and turn it in my hand. I don’t feel anything right now… would I feel. .. this? When I slide it against my arm, the blood that blooms and flows down reminds me of you. It should’ve been me. .. my blood. .. like this. … it should’ve been me. It should’ve been ME!! I scream this to the room, hoping the voices hear confession and leave me.  
The third line….I can barely make the thing straight….hands are shaking too hard…I feel…. everything yet…. nothing. Something’s on my lip. … Blood? I’m bleeding? The coke…. fuck…I laugh for a moment… it fades into gasping. … into sobbing. Into asking why? Why? Why? Why?  
That’s how I fall asleep the night you died.


End file.
